Mustard
by Mercaque
Summary: Cabot's sleepwear gives the detectives a puzzle.


Mustard

"PLEASE tell me we have a development in the Sorensen case," Elliot Stabler groaned, groggily emptying a sugar packet into his coffee. Olivia had called him at the crack of dawn, saying she needed to talk as soon as possible. At the moment, Stabler wasn't sure how capable he was of analyzing a case; he was barely awake enough to be annoyed by the din of the coffee shop that surrounded them.

"You should be calling it the PERLE case," Benson interrupted his thoughts, her brown eyes flashing triumphantly. She hadn't ordered anything, but she was still more buzzed than half the people in the coffee shop. "The DNA from the victim doesn't match Sorensen at all. But it DOES match a certain wealthy businessman's son."

The two detectives made their way out of the coffee shop and walked toward the precinct.

"Rickie Perle?" Stabler asked in tired disbelief, struggling to match his partner's ebullient stride. "I thought we crossed him off the list."

"We did, but that's because we couldn't do anything with him." Olivia waved her hands excitedly. "Remember, we wanted a warrant, but he had an alibi, however shaky it was. Now we can DEFINITELY pin him to the scene of the crime."

"Not to mention get his girlfriend for obstruction," Stabler added. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he realized the implications of Benson's discovery; his fatigue began to melt away. "We should have NO problem getting that warrant now! Olivia, you're amazing! How soon can we have it?"

"We should have it this morning," Benson crowed. "I went to see Alex last night."

Stabler laughed. "Christ, Olivia, have you gotten any sleep in the last 24 hours?"

"Barely, but it's worth it." Her grin faded into a lopsided smile. "And incidentally, I think I may have picked up a few clues with regards to our assistant district attorney as well."

"Clues about Cabot?" Stabler asked. "As in..."

"As in, I'm pretty sure I caught her at a delicate moment," Benson said, lifting a mischievous eyebrow. "She was all out of breath when she came to the door, and her hair was a wreck."

"Maybe you just caught her exercising," Stabler suggested, though it sounded feeble even to his own ears.

"At eleven o'clock at night, while wearing a man's shirt?" Benson retorted.

"Oh, a man's shirt?" Stabler answered. "How do you know?"

"The material was too thick to be a woman's blouse, and I know she doesn't wear that color," Benson answered.

"What color was it?"

"Yellow. I'd say mustard-colored." Benson smirked. "Anyway, if you'd seen the look on her face when she first came to the door... well, you don't get THAT kind of smile from exercising."

Stabler shrugged. "Okay, so she's got a boyfriend." He gave his partner a devilish look. "We can't all live like monks."

Benson swatted his arm. "We don't all live like monks," she snapped, but she was grinning. "And we don't all panic when people ask who the boyfriend is."

"She panicked?" Stabler asked, eyebrows raised.

"Wouldn't let me get one foot in the door, wouldn't even let me see inside the apartment," she confirmed. "And I got a pretty firm 'none of your business' when I asked outright."

Stabler nodded, digesting the information. "So she's hiding him?"

"But why would she? She's told me about boyfriends before."

"Hmmm," Stabler mused. "She might just not have made up her mind about the guy yet."

Benson nodded. "That's what I thought, too. But she's told me about not-quite boyfriends in the past as well. I guess it's possible she's just really unsure about this one."

Stabler eyed his partner. "You don't sound convinced."

"She seemed positively terrified at the possibility I might find out," Benson replied. "She actually took the file and said she'd ask for the warrant, no questions asked. Now THAT's suspicious." Benson broke into a sheepish laugh. "Well, maybe not. It might just be my detective's brain working overtime."

He laughed. "Hey, as long as you got us Perle, you can speculate all you want about Cabot. You're still batting 1 for 0."

She chuckled. "Thanks, Elliot."

They had just reached the precinct. Dr. Huang was approaching from the other direction.  
  
"Morning," he greeted them, his voice slightly hoarse. He ran a hand through his thick black hair in a futile effort to neaten it, his coffee-black eyes blinking owlishly.

"Morning, Doctor," Stabler replied. He held up his coffee. "You look like you could use some of this."

Huang snorted; a self-conscious smile spread across his face. "I had planned to take today off, you know," he said, throwing Benson a mock-resentful look. "But someone's ace detective work means there's a case today after all."

"Just doing my job." Benson grinned. "Speaking of ace detective work, you wouldn't happen to know who Cabot's dating, would you?"

"What?" The smile dropped off Huang's face. "I have no idea."

"C'mon, she talks to you," Stabler chimed in.

"Yeah, about cases." Skepticism flashed in the doctor's dark eyes. "Why are you asking me?"

"No reason." Benson backed off. Maybe psychiatrists weren't big on office politics. Or maybe Huang himself was simply reserved. "I just thought I'd ask our resident mind-reader."

Huang chuckled tiredly. "Don't I wish." He yawned. "I doubt I could read a book right now, much less a mind. Where'd you get the coffee again?"

"Down the street," Stabler replied. His gaze skipped idly over the doctor, then stopped. His eyes widened.

"Uh, thanks." Huang couldn't help but notice Stabler's scrutiny; his eyes darted cagily between the two detectives. "I'll just... see you guys in the office."

He turned and strode down the steps, hurriedly pulling out a cell phone as he went.

"That was odd," Benson said.

Stabler let out the laugh he'd been holding in. "Some ace detective you are."

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

Stabler smirked. "Did you see his shirt?"

"No..."

"I have one word for you." He watched Huang's retreating form with a look of mild disbelief. "Mustard."

—END—

Author's Notes: This is the end for now. I'm not quite sure where I'd take it, so I figured I should quit while I'm ahead. Suggestions are welcome, but I warn you, I'm bad at writing realistic-sounding cases. And, as always, comments and criticism are welcome too.


End file.
